My Way Home (St.Gabriel Series Book 1) (St. Gabriel Series) by Cynthia Lee Cartier Page B
Authors: Cynthia Lee Cartier
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meeting you, James.”
I stopped by the bakery to see Sara. She was measuring ingredients for the morning baking, and I offered to help. She threw me an apron.
“I’m thinking about staying a few more days, but I need to find a room somewhere. What’s cheap, but clean?”
“I can rent you a room upstairs.”
“Really?”
“Sure, the Haustermans like me to rent their apartment when they’re not here. Keeps the dough rolling in for them, ya know?”
“Sara, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but you could do lots of things. It seems like maybe the Hausterman’s expect a lot, and maybe take advantage of you. Why do you stay here?”
“Free rent all year. I work dawn to dusk in the summer, so I can paint all winter. They let me live upstairs even when the bakery closes for the season. I’m in the studio across the hall from their apartment, home sweet home. Nothing’s fancy up there but neat as a pin, my place excluded. Gott kann nicht Ihre Gebete hören, wenn er Sie vorbei am Durcheinander, nicht sehen kann.”
“Excuse me?”
“God can’t hear your prayers if he can’t see you past the clutter. That’s wisdom according to my Oma, my Grandmother Ada.”
“Good to know.”
I got back to the inn just as Loretta, Sandi, and Marni were getting out of a horse and buggy taxi.
“You took a taxi two blocks?” I asked.
“And I may pay Jeremy to carry me up the stairs too. Do you have a problem with that?” asked Loretta.
“No problem, excellent idea in fact. Where’s Dawn?” I interrupted myself, “Never mind. Forget I asked.”
“You should have stayed, Cammy. James Alexander was asking a lot of questions about you,” reported Marni. “He’s rich, you know. His family owns the View Point Hotel.”
“And practically every other place you can... how did Gary Rogers put it?” said Loretta as she rolled her eyes. “I believe it was ‘eat, sleep, or piss on the island'. Now there’s a class act.”
“Guess how old he is,” said Sandi.
“No.”
“Okay, I’ll tell you, forty-five, a younger man. What would Race Coleman think about that, rich and younger?”
“Don’t forget... tall, dark, and handsome too,” added Marni.
What would Race think about that?
“It really isn’t necessary to compensate for Dawn’s brashness when she’s not around,” I said as I held the door open. “I’ve heard enough. Entre, ladies.”
When we were getting ready for bed, I said to Loretta, “I was thinking, since Janie is spending the July 4th weekend with some friends in San Antonio, I might stay here a few more days if that’s okay with you.”
“How will you get to the airport?”
“I checked. I can rent a car when I get off the ferry.”
“Guess you’ve already decided.”
“You’re mad.”
“No, I’m not mad. I’m worried.”
“Don’t be. I’m fine. Believe me. I’m better than fine, and I think I may be entering the Acceptance Stage.”
“Promise me you won’t buy any real estate before you leave.”
“I promise.”
I celebrated my forty-eighth birthday that week on the island. The girls woke me up with a cake aflame with candles and took me to the Water Gardens. The Water Gardens are a twenty-two acre preserve that includes Gabriel Falls, a waterfall that flows from the top of Grayson’s Meadow, into Gabriel Creek, and down to the shore where it feeds Lake Brigade. The pools that form on the way down to the lake are artfully maintained with native plants to make it look natural, which it does, like a natural fairyland. At the gardens I was indulged for hours of exploration and picture taking, and Dawn didn’t complain once.
Then we spent the last couple of days before the girls left the island, doing all of the touristy things. We toured the Fort, watched a Civil War reenactment in the park, and saw a melodrama and a musical revue at the historic Trillium Playhouse. And we ate our way up and down Main Street, but I don’t think I gained a pound. My skinny
I stopped by the bakery to see Sara. She was measuring ingredients for the morning baking, and I offered to help. She threw me an apron.
“I’m thinking about staying a few more days, but I need to find a room somewhere. What’s cheap, but clean?”
“I can rent you a room upstairs.”
“Really?”
“Sure, the Haustermans like me to rent their apartment when they’re not here. Keeps the dough rolling in for them, ya know?”
“Sara, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but you could do lots of things. It seems like maybe the Hausterman’s expect a lot, and maybe take advantage of you. Why do you stay here?”
“Free rent all year. I work dawn to dusk in the summer, so I can paint all winter. They let me live upstairs even when the bakery closes for the season. I’m in the studio across the hall from their apartment, home sweet home. Nothing’s fancy up there but neat as a pin, my place excluded. Gott kann nicht Ihre Gebete hören, wenn er Sie vorbei am Durcheinander, nicht sehen kann.”
“Excuse me?”
“God can’t hear your prayers if he can’t see you past the clutter. That’s wisdom according to my Oma, my Grandmother Ada.”
“Good to know.”
I got back to the inn just as Loretta, Sandi, and Marni were getting out of a horse and buggy taxi.
“You took a taxi two blocks?” I asked.
“And I may pay Jeremy to carry me up the stairs too. Do you have a problem with that?” asked Loretta.
“No problem, excellent idea in fact. Where’s Dawn?” I interrupted myself, “Never mind. Forget I asked.”
“You should have stayed, Cammy. James Alexander was asking a lot of questions about you,” reported Marni. “He’s rich, you know. His family owns the View Point Hotel.”
“And practically every other place you can... how did Gary Rogers put it?” said Loretta as she rolled her eyes. “I believe it was ‘eat, sleep, or piss on the island'. Now there’s a class act.”
“Guess how old he is,” said Sandi.
“No.”
“Okay, I’ll tell you, forty-five, a younger man. What would Race Coleman think about that, rich and younger?”
“Don’t forget... tall, dark, and handsome too,” added Marni.
What would Race think about that?
“It really isn’t necessary to compensate for Dawn’s brashness when she’s not around,” I said as I held the door open. “I’ve heard enough. Entre, ladies.”
When we were getting ready for bed, I said to Loretta, “I was thinking, since Janie is spending the July 4th weekend with some friends in San Antonio, I might stay here a few more days if that’s okay with you.”
“How will you get to the airport?”
“I checked. I can rent a car when I get off the ferry.”
“Guess you’ve already decided.”
“You’re mad.”
“No, I’m not mad. I’m worried.”
“Don’t be. I’m fine. Believe me. I’m better than fine, and I think I may be entering the Acceptance Stage.”
“Promise me you won’t buy any real estate before you leave.”
“I promise.”
I celebrated my forty-eighth birthday that week on the island. The girls woke me up with a cake aflame with candles and took me to the Water Gardens. The Water Gardens are a twenty-two acre preserve that includes Gabriel Falls, a waterfall that flows from the top of Grayson’s Meadow, into Gabriel Creek, and down to the shore where it feeds Lake Brigade. The pools that form on the way down to the lake are artfully maintained with native plants to make it look natural, which it does, like a natural fairyland. At the gardens I was indulged for hours of exploration and picture taking, and Dawn didn’t complain once.
Then we spent the last couple of days before the girls left the island, doing all of the touristy things. We toured the Fort, watched a Civil War reenactment in the park, and saw a melodrama and a musical revue at the historic Trillium Playhouse. And we ate our way up and down Main Street, but I don’t think I gained a pound. My skinny
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